


I'd Rather Dress as An Elf

by Ladderofyears



Series: Shipmas 2018 [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Draco Malfoy is a Good Parent, F/M, Gen, Memories, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Draco considers some of the different Christmases that he has experienced throughout his life.Shipmas 2018: Taken from the prompt 'I don't care how many chocolate frogs you bribe me with, I'm not dressing as an elf'





	I'd Rather Dress as An Elf

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking with my stories. I have so enjoyed sharing them with all of you. I hope you enjoy this very fluffy story.

When Draco was young, Christmas had seemed so important to the Malfoy family. Some of Draco’s first memories were of the massive pine tree filling the hall, thousands of tiny candles enchanted to glow and flicker when he came near. How beautiful his mother would look in her ballgown as she leant over him to kiss him goodnight. The smell of a dozen different dishes made for Christmas balls, each more lavish than the last. 

He remembered his father holding court with all of his colleagues from the Ministry, Draco’s heart swelling with pride at just how important he had seemed. Of all the memories of childhood his Pensieve might contain, those of Christmas were the ones he treasured the most, the ones he held most close to his heart. 

But when the War came, when his family name was ruined, and every foundation that Draco had built his life upon was obliterated, these were the memories that were sullied the most. The same colleagues had lined up to accuse his father of corruption and curses. House-Elves told of Lucius’ anger, bullying and rages. His mother was cast out from polite society, with no respectable Wizarding family deigning to take her owl. Christmas seemed forever tainted, a season where Draco could only brood on what he, and his family, had lost forever. 

Years passed, interminable Christmases where Draco’s presence had been resentfully accepted at Ministry Balls and soirées. Sometimes he drank too much, then nasty words with even nastier hexes were exchanged. More often though, Draco would leave early, the embarrassed small talk of his workmates mortifying for all involved. _Not that he deserved better_ , he had mused into his glass of Firewhiskey. _It was exceptionally lonely being Draco Malfoy There is no escaping the past_. 

But Astoria had pulled him from that dark place. They’d met at one of those awful Ministry Christmas parties, Draco laughing and dancing in a way he hasn’t in years. Of course, it had been far too easy to fall in love, her warm brown eyes reading him so fluently that he hadn't really needed to speak the words. One year later Astoria had taken his ring and his name. 

She had smiled as she’d thrown her reputation, her good name and her life to the winds. Their bonding was small, quiet and intimate, lit only by the light of tiny enchanted candles on their Christmas tree. Draco had felt his heart begin to heal. Two years passed, and as Draco lay with Astoria, the curve and weight of her pregnant belly heavy between them, he began to be at peace with his memories of the past. 

When their daughter, Scorpia was born on the thirteenth of January, the snow was lay thick on the grounds of the Manor. Such a tiny weight in his arms, this angry, red scrap of a thing broke Draco entirely. He knew there and then that he would love this child forever. And little Scorpia was happy. Astoria and Draco loved her above above all others, and did everything in their power to give her the most wonderful childhood they could imagine. 

The Malfoy family existed within a bubble of happiness, isolated from the rest of the world. Astoria’s illness, and the dark rumours that were quietly whispered in impolite society, had worked to them away from the rest of the world. But Draco always knew his daughter was different. The Christmas that Scorpia was seven, that had been the year when everything that changed. 

Their perfect little girl, always so excited and so full of life, had started to distance herself from other people. Spending hours alone, she wouldn’t speak unless spoken to. Scorpia would cry hot tears when she was bathed, when she was dressed and when she awoke from nightmares. Draco would find her curled up in the library, asleep amongst the piles of books. Astoria was upset, but certain that their daughter would grow out of it eventually. 

Draco was less sure. When he’d tried to bribe Scorpia with Chocolate Frogs, anything to get her into the dress they’d had specially made for their Christmas photo, she had screamed in frustration. Running away, Scorpia had cried that she’d rather dress as a House Elf. The photograph never did get taken. 

The day was ruined. His daughter had hidden herself away, losing herself in the dusty depths of the Manor. When Draco had found her later, his beautiful baby was exhausted and heartbroken. _Why_ , Scorpia demanded, _did they keep trying to make him dress like a girl? Didn’t they want him any more? Didn’t they love him?_

“If you aren't a girl, Scorpia, then what are you, sweetheart?” Draco had questioned, stroking his child’s soft white hair. 

“I’m a boy, daddy. It’s not fair that I have to have all these girl’s things. Don’t make me wear the dress, daddy. I don’t like it”.

And so, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was born. Astoria and Draco’s Christmas present that year was a son, a little boy with his father’s grey eyes and his mother’s beautiful smile. 

A little boy who woke up on Christmas morning in his tartan pyjamas and, his newly cut hair and jumped straight on their bed. That Christmas Day, Scorpius had looked on in wonder at the full assortment of toys left for him by Santa, and had been beside himself with joy at the broomstick-shaped present under the tree. To see his happiness, his confidence and his excitement restored was the greatest gift they could both have asked for. 

And for Draco, looking at his wife and son, knew that these were the memories that he would view in his Pensieve, an old man, surrounded by his family. Christmases that were filled with games, stockings full of toys and mince-pies left out for Santa. These weren't the luscious, opulent Christmases of Draco’s childhood, but that didn’t matter. In their simplicity, in their love, these were the best Christmases of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you have a really great day xxxx


End file.
